Breaking Free
by EdeatheDemonFox
Summary: This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be far past feeling guilt. Mark always said that feeling guilty was pointless because they weren't doing anything wrong. They were bringing beautiful photos into the world, just through the use of drugs and taking without consent. But that didn't stop the guilt from rising up in him, like vomit in his throat.


Breaking Free ( A Nathan Prescott Story)

Chapter 1 – First Step

As far as Kate knew, he was taking her to the hospital. That was what he _should_ be doing anyway; the right thing to do. But Nathan Prescott hadn't done the right thing in a long time. It was never what his father wanted – and not his real, piece of crap, father by blood. The man that he really did consider – and wished with all his heart (because yes, he did have one) – was his father.

But, the even sadder thing was that he _knew_ the difference between right and wrong. _Knew_ that what he was doing was so horribly wrong and that he was a monster in his own way, even if he was only _bringing_ Kate to Mark – never Mr. Jefferson, but also, never father either – and wasn't going to be the one doing drugging her only to then take photos of her helpless state.

His eyes flitted furiously back and forth from Kate in the rearview mirror to Kate's actual huddled self in his backseat. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. She'd been crying and he didn't need her close to know that her heart was pounding away as she tried to regain her bearings, even with the heavy dose in her system.

Damn it! This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be far past feeling guilt. Mark always said that feeling guilty was pointless because they weren't doing anything wrong. They were bringing beautiful photos into the world, just through the use of drugs and taking without consent. But that didn't stop the guilt from rising up in him, like vomit in his throat that he just had to expel. He knew it was wrong, over and over again his mind would tell him. Like a song you didn't want to hear stuck on repeat. A broken record.

He could feel his own heart racing now, pounding feverishly, and he kept having to take one hand off the steering wheel so that he could wipe his clammy forehead, the sweat dripping in his eyes doing nothing to help his already agitated state.

There was a part of him that was so tempted to just rip his cell phone from his jeans pocket, call Mark and tell him that he couldn't do it. For once, he just couldn't do it and that he was sorry and he would be back to normal for the next girl he wanted down in the dark room. Or as close to normal as he could get at this point. He was pretty fucked up and so far gone already, so…

"Damn it." He finally cursed the two words aloud, under his breath, but even with the nearly stifling silence, he doubted the oblivious girl in the back heard him.

"Are we…are we getting close?" she asked, honestly terrified eyes meeting his as he once more caught a glimpse of her through his rearview mirror. "To the…to the…hospital?"

Nathan didn't know what it was about Kate Marsh of all people that had him feeling this weak. That reminded him that he only held his control by the barest of threads. And it wasn't because she was a Christian or any dumb shit like that, because he didn't believe in God. With his life and all that he had been unwillingly forced to endure, how could he?

Trying to picture her all slutty like she had been back at the Vortex Club party wasn't helping him stay on track either. The way she had been kissing all the guys there, all over them like a bitch in heat…it was supposed to remind him that she was nothing more than a hypocrite and that she deserved to be put in her place. And Mark would do that. And allow him to help. Nathan's only father-figure _was_ already allowing him to help by having entrusted him with getting Kate doped up and then transporting her to the barn.

 _You know it's wrong, Nathan,_ his mind whispered to him. A cold caress that caused him to shudder. "Shut up," he whispered.

But then as a truck's horn blared at him and he barely just avoided being hit, he slammed back into reality at the exact moment he slammed on the breaks. He remembered that he still needed to answer Kate's question.

"Yeah," was all he could say in response to those puppy dog-like, bloodshot eyes.

God, he was losing it. Wait…he already had. A long time ago. A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat but was never uttered. The abyss he was spiraling into had been growing, festering like an infection deep within for all these years. Countless days now. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He knew that, too.

The real question here was…Was he strong enough to take that path? Toward the light. He knew…that without a doubt, Mark wouldn't just be disappointed in him if he did that. If he didn't bring Kate to him. If he…disobeyed him. The photographer would be absolutely furious. Possibly enough to drug him the next time he had his guard down and then take pictures of him not only for his own amusement but to reveal to the world as art. That would be Mark's way of showing him his place. That he was nothing more than his father-figure's bitch. Even if he desperately wished for it not to be true.

He was always left with wanting more than he was given, because whenever he had any time to just lay back and think, swimming – drowning – in his own twisted thoughts, he would regain clarity and remember how foolish he was for allowing himself to believe he was ever given as much as he wanted from people. He was never given enough – attention, affection, and (dare he say it?) love – and what was even worse was that he allowed it. He allowed people to take and take from him, always expecting more, but in return what was he given? False thanks and praises, plastic smiles….and even those tended to fade away after awhile.

If he really thought about it, like he was now, he knew that Mark was exactly like his real father. Just as hard and cold-blooded. He'd given Nathan exactly what he wanted when he'd first met the famous photographer. Back when he had become the man's bitch and hadn't even known it yet. That was all he'd been from the start. But Nathan had been too blinded by the man's radiant smiles, hearing what he'd always longed to hear spilling forth from Mark's lips. Things like: _you have so much potential_ and _your father doesn't give you enough credit, Nate._ And then Nathan's personal favorite. That had been the only kind of antibiotic that would work on his infected heart. _I love you._

And he still wanted to believe those words even though he knew, he fucking _knew_ that they weren't true. Just a pretty little lie to get him right where Mark had wanted. He was the fly caught in the web woven by the only father he had ever had. And the real twisted thing in all of this, was that Mark probably even thought the words he had told Nathan over and over to get him even more tangled within his web were art in themselves.

He had once told Nathan that it took art to make art. Passion was art and if you didn't have passion…then whatever you were doing, whatever you were putting effort into was just a big fucking waste of time. And the man had shown Nathan so much passion. Not just through his words, but…

A choked sob left Nathan's lips at the thought. Actions always spoke louder than words and even though the man's words had healed him in a way, had put his heart back together, it was those lingering…tender touches that had told Nathan that it was all real. It wasn't just a dream. He _could_ be loved. Even though he was nothing more than just a piece of shit to his own father.

But his heart was still in pieces. Mark had never put it back together because it all had all been just one big fat performance on the older man's part. He wasn't just a gifted photographer. He was a gifted actor, too. And all that left was Nathan playing the part of Humpty Dumpty. Who couldn't be put back together, even at the end of the story where all the miracles are supposed to happen.

And thinking of not just all those words – those lies – that he'd been told, but those touches and smiles, all untrue, caused his vision to blur as hot, salty tears started to prick his eyes.

There was no miracle here. There wouldn't be a miracle no matter what choice he made. He would still be broken and rendered helpless, unable to put himself back together. So why not just stay with Mark? Even though those praising and loving words had stopped long ago, those touches that he loved were now distant and so far and few between. And the love…well, there had been none. So…

Nathan wasn't willing to live a lie anymore. Or more so, he didn't _want_ to. He was just being used. And he was so…sick of it! Sick of being controlled. Of being the puppet while Mark (and everyone else in his life, for that matter) played the part of puppet master.

"Fuck this," he finally said, breaking the deafening silence that had once more enveloped both him and Kate after their earlier, brief exchange of words.

And with trembling hands clenching the steering wheel, his face pale and angry, his eyes narrowed…he turned in the opposite direction of the fast approaching barn. A quick and jerky movement. Now he was speeding away from the ever ominous, broken down building, a huge contrast to when he'd been driving towards it, fear taking his heart and clenching it within tight claws.

Once he got back onto the main road, his eyes caught the briefest flash of a sign.

 _Arcadia Bay Hospital – 7 Miles_

He breathed out a heavy sigh, a part of him itching, _aching_ to turn back. To go to Mark and vent his fears and worries and maybe by telling the man that he'd been feeling so unloved as of late would rectify things. And Mark's touch would descend on him again like a fallen angel. So heavenly and sinful at the same time.

But…no. That wouldn't do anything. It wouldn't do a damn single thing other than cement him even further into this cataclysmic web Mark had created.

His hands tightened on the wheel, furious at himself, but he kept going. Really…there was no other option except to make the right choice for once in his damn, fucked up life.

….

Wow. Okay. So that might be the heaviest, darkest, most screwed up thing I've written and then decided to upload. Hmm, maybe just in general. I honestly don't know. I do enjoy writing dark but not this dark.

This game is honestly so amazing. I watched my best friend finish up chapter 4 and do chapter 5 after she told me the basic storyline and what she had done so far in the game. I fell in love with the storyline and characters pretty much immediately. And now we're doing our own play through together and I actually just…I couldn't help it. Nathan…is so fucked up but God help me, he didn't ask for any of it. Nothing condones what he did but it explains it. And I just find myself falling for him and empathizing with him so much. It's not even funny.

And I read this fic someone else did, describing Nathan's thoughts during everything in the game. Everything that he was a part of and felt. And it was so perfect. So true. And even before I read it, I could not stop thinking about things like that the fic had in it. Nathan's feelings themselves. So…I just. Had to do this.

And for once in my life, I'm also going to be doing something multi-chaptered. I have a great idea for two other chapters and it will be only three unless I come up with something more. So here is the end of chapter one. I've already started chapter two thanks to an rp I'm doing with the friend that got me into this game that helped inspire it so a huge thank you to her. ;w; She knows who she is!

Ironically, too, this was only supposed to be a drabble. Mainly because I didn't think I'd be able to come up with more than a few hundred words. So…ta-da!

Critique and comments are much appreciated!~

~EdeatheDemonFox


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